


The Stupid Endings

by Urbenmyth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Typical Triggers, Honest, Just random bullshit, Totally lore compatible, series 5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urbenmyth/pseuds/Urbenmyth
Summary: There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site.These aren't among them.These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.
Comments: 42
Kudos: 98





	1. A Serious AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could Jon have stopped the ritual?
> 
> Probably like this.

_“Now. Repeat after me.”_

Jon tried, sobbing, desperate to stop the words forcing their way through his lips. But he knew, in his hearts of hearts- he Knew- it was impossible.

Even had he been willing to sacrifice himself to stop this- and he may well have been- it would be too late. He wasn't human enough.

“ _You who watch and know and understand none.”_

And above him, the clouds warp.

_“You who listen and hear and will not comprehend”_

And around him, the world shakes.

_“You who wait, and wait, and drink in all that is not yours by right”_

And before him, a thousand eyes stare eagerly.

_Come to us in your wholeness. Come to us in your perfection._

And he is reliving a thousand statements, a thousand nightmares, a thousand horrors.

_Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls_

And he is in a tunnel, covered in worms, helplessly flailing in the flood as a rotting face grins down at him.

_and chokes_

And he is deep underground, trapped beneath rock, desperately searching for an exit long gone, unable to breath, forever.

_and blinds_

And he is in an icy town where the sun never rises, gazing onto a perfect blackness he still sees when he closes his eyes

_and falls_

And he is falling to his death in a man’s living room, soon to hit the floor at terminal velocity without ever leaving his chair.

_and twists_

And he is bleeding in his office, desperately searching for a woman here seconds ago, inhuman laughter echoing as a door slams shut.

_and leaves_

And he is on a beach, mist around him, a coldly kind voice mocking him as the man he loves vanishes into the distance.

_and hides_

And he is hiding in the tunnels, watching as a thing that looks like his friend never looked like grasps for him with too long arms

_and weaves_

And he is a child, watching helplessly as a door opens, as a thing from a nightmare reaches out and tears his bully from the world.

_and burns_

And he is in a park, screaming in agony, his flesh boiling as the melted woman laughs down at him, drinking in his suffering.

_and hunts_

And he is in a forest, blood running down his throat, looking into the police officer’s eyes and seeing only feral hatred looking back.

_and rips_

And he is in a brightly coloured corridor, a thing too massive to be human reaching into his body like water, peeling out his bones one by one.

_and bleeds_

And he is in a back room, the woman in front of him screaming as she plunges her knife into him, her face contorted with rage and hatred and some unearthly song.

_and dies_

And he is in dreams, hearing a voice calmly telling him that he is not human. That he can never be human. That he’s dead, and he can simply choose not to be.

_Come to us._

And he is sat in his office, telling a story about a Stranger. Telling himself it’s a hoax, a drunk’s delusion, that he can’t _see_ that swaying figure in the alley clear as day.

_I – OPEN – THE DOOR!_

And above him, the sky opens.

Knowledge pours in, so fast and strong he knows he will soon pass out. He has one last chance before it's too late. With all his will, he focuses, and speaks

_And I close it again!_

And then he passes out.

\------

When he comes to, Martin stands over him. “Jon!”

“Martin? What happened?”

“Well, the sky just...opened! Like an eye! And then it...shut again? It was weird”

“Oh. Good. It worked.”

“Are we...OK?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Could you maybe skim statements for me before I read them? Not _read_ them, just...check they’re real.”

“Yeah, I guess? Anyway, I saw a great cow! It was fluffy and…”

\----

Far away, Jonah Magnus swore, and pulled out the whiskey.


	2. A Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Many Death Of Jonathan Sims

MICHAEL

I’ve come to a decision, Archivist. I’m going to kill you.

ARCHIVIST

[FRUSTRATED GROAN]

MICHAEL

It’s earlier than I had hoped, but that’s life… I suppose. Your life. _[Giggles]_ Before I do, however, I want you to understand… even if it does go against my nature. So.

[THE GAG IS REMOVED; THE ARCHIVIST GASPS]

 _[Enunciating each word carefully]_ Ask your questions.  
  
ARCHIVIST  
  
I,..Why are you talking to me? Why not just get it over with?  
  
MICHAEL  
  
_[Laughs]_ You’re right, I suppose. It does seem uncharacteristic for what I am. Perhaps...oh. Oh I see.  
  
ARCHIVIST  
  
What?  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST STABBING.]

[DISTORTED SCREAMS OF PAINFUL AND TERMINAL OPENING]  
  
[DOOR OPENS]  
  
HELEN  
  
Fuck.  
  


* * *

  
ORSINOV

Question time is over, little Archivist. Find the skin for us. You have until… well, until I change my mind.

[THE ARCHIVIST FALLS, BREATHING HEAVILY]

Shhh… Save your energy for the dance.

[FOOTSTEPS OVER LABOURED BREATHING]  
  
ARCHIVIST  
Oh...oh god.  
  
[FOOTSTEPS RETURN]  
  
NIKOLA  
Changed my mind!  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST SKINNING]

GEORGIE  
  
Jon! If you’re being attacked by monsters again could you keep it down? You’re waking the Admiral!  
  


* * *

NOT!SASHA

Found you.

ARCHIVIST

No. Please…

NOT!SASHA

Sorry, John, but this is –  
  
[SOUND OF STONE AND BRICK SUDDENLY SHIFTING. A SCREAM FROM THE ARCHIVIST.]  
  
LEITNER  
Oh dear. My...aim is off in my old age, it seems.

NOT!SASHA  
...  
  
LEITNER  
I will give you any book of your choice if you tell everyone _you_ killed him.

* * *

DAISY  
  
Wait a minute! I have a gun!  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST SHOOTING]

* * *

TREVOR  
  
Wait a minute! _I_ have a gun!  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST SHOOTING]

* * *

JUDE  
  
Wait a minute! I’m an asshole!  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST INCINERATING]  
  


* * *

ARCHIVIST

Tell me your story, Peter Lukas.

[AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS, THE CRACKLING STATIC OF COMPULSION RISES.]

PETER

No!  
  
[PUNCHING NOISE. STATIC STOPS]  
  
ARCHIVIST  
Ow!  
  
PETER  
What you fail to understand, Archivist, is that I’m like twice your size.  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL ARCHIVIST BEATING]  
  


* * *

ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)

The air is heavy. Soil and dust. I am - very thirsty. But I know I won’t die of it. _(moving again)_ I won’t die of anything down here. Not ever. Wait, no. I was wrong.  
  
[ARCHIVIST DIES OF A CONGENITAL HEART CONDITION COMPLETELY UNRELATED TO BEING IN THE BURIED]

* * *

SASHA  
  
I said it’s pronounced fucking “ka-lee-o-pee”, _you piece of shit_!  
  
[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL CALLIOPE-RELATED MURDER]  
  


* * *

[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PIPE MURDER]

ELIAS  
Oh. That was...that was _not_ the right guy. These tunnels play havoc with my perceptions. Hmm. Mr Leitner! Have you ever considered a career as an archivist?


	3. The Secret of Hilltop Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% Canon Confirmed

Sat in the dusty, cluttered house, Martin looked up and sighed.

“Ok, Annabelle. You’ve won. I’m here. All your oh-so-clever manipulations paid off. So stop  _ gloating  _ and just tell me what it is you want.”

She grinned.

“Very well. It’s nothing terrible, I promise. I just need your help in setting this right.”

“Yeah, out of the goodness of your heart I bet. Let me guess, putting the Web in the Eye’s place? Make it all puppet and puppeteers? You’ll need more then...”

“No, no, Mr Blackwood. This is bigger than this. So much bigger. Perhaps I need to show you”

She got up, calmly put aside her tea and began to walk down the stairs. Martin looked around, curious. The house was empty. Even in Night Street or the Suburbs you could tell something was off, a distant scream or hastily shut off gasp, but here? Nothing. No-one.

He didn’t like it.

“Where are the sufferers?”

“There aren’t any. This isn’t a domain.  _ This  _ is something else entirely.”

Sighing, Martin followed the avatar down the stairs, clutching his mug. He doubted it could hurt her if this was a trap, but better than nothing. 

“ What, then? Some kind of spider temple... _ woah _ ”

The crack ran across the floor, at once hair thin and an endless chasm of blackness. As he watched, it grew and distorted and warped, endlessly shifting and remaking itself.

“What is it?”

“It’s a door. A door to another world. Not a fear domain. Not even a fear world. A  _ true _ other world, one untouched and untouchable by the powers.”

“ And you want me to go through it?”

Annabelle smiled again, and reached for the webbing on her head.

“I doubt I would be of much use once outside the Mother’s power. And besides, I admit I’ve grown...reliant. Once you’re an avatar, it’s increasingly hard to act without your patron. I don’t know how... persuasive I’d be without the Mother’s whispers guiding me.”

“Yes, I’m sure its  _ very _ hard for you having to torture innocents for power. Fine. So I, a normal human, jump through and...what? Escape? Get help? What’s through there?”

“You still don’t understand. The Mother  _ is _ control, and to serve control is to see strings wherever they are. The Powers- they’re not the rulers of this world. Not by a long way. For all their power, they’re just puppets in their own right, to things higher still”

“What, are you saying through there’s...some kind of Mega-Fear?”

“Not…  _ exactly _ , Mr Blackwood. Sit down. I’ll tell you who’s really behind your suffering. And how to stop them.”

* * *

ARCHIVIST

I’m sorry, Martin. But there is no other way. You need to kill me, now, while I’m still human enough to…

MARTIN

Jon! Wait! I found this!

ARCHIVIST

What is...this Leitner! My god! It could utterly destroy the Entities! Forever!

MARTIN

Without harming you in any way!

ARCHIVIST

Exactly! And bring back Tim, Sasha and Daisy!

MARTIN

While repairing our relationship with Tim, restoring our memories of Sasha and freeing Daisy from the Hunt!

ARCHIVIST

And the only side effect is that apparently it will...bludgeon Simon Fairchild to death?

MARTIN

Very sad but I’m sure we’ll get over it. Anyway, I solved the problem! All our problems!

ARCHIVIST

You did! I love you Martin!

MARTIN

I love you, Jon!

[EXTENDED SMOOCHING NOISES]

Alex looked up, brows furrowed. “Are you  _ sure  _ about this, Jon? It’s a very radical rewrite, and getting everyone to re-record and last minute soundscaping... And not to step on your writing toes, but it  _ really _ doesn't fit with our established themes.”

Jonny nursed his black eye, and looked at the large man angrily making tea in his kitchen.

“I’m sure. Let’s just say I was...struck by inspiration.”


	4. Through The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a fan of the Pupil reveal in 192?
> 
> Here's some other things that could have happened!

Rosie looked at the pair and, just for a second, something of her old sardonic personality flickered in her eyes, above the plastered-on vapid smile.

“Head right on in, he’s ready for you.”

Was she fighting through the brainwashing? Or was this just another one of Jonah's tricks?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter.

“Ok.”

Jon took a deep breath, and pushed open the looming doors to reveal…

* * *

...Elias Bouchard, sitting awkwardly at his desk.

“Er...hello Jon. Martin”

Martin stormed in and grabbed the man by the collar, eyes cold.

“Listen, Elias, you’re going to reverse this or…”

“I don’t know! I have no idea! Please don’t hit me!” Elias began to cry.

“...wait, what? Jon, what’s going on? Why hasn’t he melted my brain or something?”

“...oh my god.”

“What?”

“That’s not Jonah. That’s Elias. The _real_ Elias.”

Shocked, Martin let the man go as he scuttled under the desk, whimpering.

“You...broke free? That’s amazing!”

“Err…” Elias giggled nervously “Not exactly…”

“What happened then, you…” Martin heard the telltale buzz of Knowing from Jon and then..

“Oh, _fuck me!”_ Jon picked up his bag and hurled it at the wall in fury.

“Jon?! What happened?”

“Yes, Elias. _What happened_ ? _”_

“Well...so...you ever got so high that you thought your body was taken over by an 18th century cultist and orchestrated a several year plot to plunge the earth into a hell of eternal terror?”

Martin and Jon stared. Martin spoke first.

“Oh, fuck off!”

Elias reached into his pocket.

“Sorry, 100% my bad. Er...can I offer either of you a blunt in this trying time?”

* * *

...Basira sat atop a throne, smirking, eyes glowing.

“That’s right, Jon. I, Basira Hussien, am the real mastermind behind all of this! Jonah, Annabelle, Peter, Nikola...all just pawns in my game!”

She threw back her head and cackled manically. Jon’s eyes grew wide with horror.

“My God! It all makes sense now...wait, hang on. No it doesn’t. That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

“Yeah, if anything, it makes everything up until this point make _less_ sense. Why were you wandering through the forest? Why not let Daisy eat us? Why would you have to send yourself away to stop yourself stopping us from completing your plans? It’s totally nonsensical!”

“Exactly! Which makes it the perfect twist! No-one could have seen this coming!”

Jon’s heart sank in horror as he realised what this meant, even before the Beholding confirmed the terrible truth.

“No…”

“Yes! This apocalypse was sponsored...by the Walt Disney Corporation!”

* * *

...Absolutely nothing.

Martin spun around, eyes wide.

“It’s just an empty room! Where’s Elias- Jonah- whatever? Where’s anything? What’s going on?!”

“Oh, he died a long time ago. Torn apart by the Eye’s undivided attention at the moment of the Change. This is just a weird tower, nothing special about it.”

“What? Then...why did we...?”

Martin turned to see Jon kneeling down. “What?!”

“Because I wanted a private place to ask… Martin Blackwood. Will you marry me?”

“I...Yes! But also what? But also yes! But what?”

Jon stood up, smiled warmly, and went in for a kiss. Afterwards, Martin looked out the window at the suffering and fear.

“But...what about the apocalypse?”

“Oh, that can’t be reversed.”

“Like...at all?”

“Nope. I _did_ keep saying it was hopeless. I am omniscient, you know.”

“Oh. Well. This is an emotionally difficult day.”

“Don’t worry, succumb to utter despair and it’s fine. Anyway. Your domain or mine?”

* * *

...Elias sat down, playing a game on his phone and giggling

“Elias!”

He sat upright, shocked. “Er...Er… Jon! At last we…”

“Look, I don’t mean to yell, but when you agreed to monster for our LARP, we were hoping you’d be a bit more reliable than...”

“I’m sorry, but you were definitely meant to be here earlier! If…”

Martin stood between them.

“Ok, ok. It’s just a game, guys. Let’s stay calm. What happened is that on the way here, we bumped into Not-Sasha…”

“Oh, god. Sasha’s twin? She’s an _asshole_.”

“Yeah, we ended up just throwing “Ceaseless Watcher’ tokens at her until she left, but still. That’s the delay. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for not texting to see what was going on. Ok. Well, go out and come back in? I think I can get back in character quickly.”

“I think the same. Ok, do-over!”

Jon and Martin walked out, took a deep breath and opened the door. Elias stood, a cruel grin on his face.

“Jon. At last, we _truly_ meet. Demigod to demigod. And I see you brought a...valet.”

“Enough talking, Jonah. _Reach for your tokens_!”

* * *

...A big red button labelled “Revert The Apocalypse.”

Jonah sneered, dozens of burning eyes covering his face, his voice distorted and inhuman.

“Hello Jon. Martin. Let me guess, you think you have some kind of clever plan to take me down? Pathetic. I am the _king_ of this world and you two? You are _nothing_.”

Martin smiled. “No! We have love!”

“Really, Martin? Do you still think this is a problem that can be resolved by a _nice hot cup of tea_ ? Even with all my sight I have _no_ idea how you survived...ah!”

Martin grinned and decked Jonah. “Didn’t see that coming, did you, dickhead? Jon! While he’s distracted!”

Jon’s eyes grew, blazing green orbs. The air shook with the feeling of a thousand gazing watchers.

“Ceaseless Watcher! I want this twink...obliterated!”

“No! No! This cannot beeaAARGH!”

Stood around the ash, Jon and Martin kissed, and reached over to press the button. Martin grabbed his hand.

“Martin?”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just need to do one thing first.”

Smiling, he walked to the windows, and looked down at a domain of rain and sorrow.

“In your face, Fog Boy!”

* * *

A dark room. Illuminated by the light from a stained glass window, Jonah stood, back to the pair.

“Jonah.”

He didn’t turn around, but he chuckled darkly.

“Hello Jon. Apologies for the deception…”

At which point the lights shot on. Around them Tim, Sasha, Melanie, Georgie, Basira and Daisy sat in party hats. In the center of the room was a bright party cake

“but I rather wanted this to be a surprise! Happy birthday!”

Applause and party poppers filled the room.

“What?”

Elias walked over and smiled, putting his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Well, I felt terrible after your last birthday. I barged in, I revealed the cake surprise, I _forgot your name_ during the birthday song...I must have ruined it! So for this year, we decided to pull out all the stops!”

Martin grinned and held his hand.

“And make you think there were fear gods who were turning you into a monster and then the world ended! The perfect surprise! Have a slice of cake darling!”

Jon looked around confused as everyone cheered and smiled.

“But...but...The unknowing?”

“Special effects!”

“Tim died!”

“Special effects!”

“The avatars?”

“Ah yes, the ‘avatars’. I hope you don’t mind that we invited the actors? I seemed only fair.”

Not-Sasha walked up to him and held out a hand to shake.

“Hi! Sarah, I’m a friend of Sasha's from uni! I hope I didn’t upset you too much!”

“But...my memories were altered!”

“I’m a very good actress.”

“And… Melanie gouged her eyes out!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! We wanted the birthday to go well! And my eyes are a minor price to pay for that!”

“But... the domains? The world?!”

Two men stepped out the shadows.

“’Ello Jon. Breekon and Hope’s construction business. For when y’need a set built quickly.”

The shorter man leant up and kissed his husband on the cheek. “And we’ve been known to dabble in a bit of acting.”

“That we ‘ave, m’dear. That we have.”

“But...what...I don’t…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Jon!” Peter Lukas walked in, wearing sunglasses. “Now, I heard there was a party?!”

Elias grinned and kissed him. “My husband, the party animal. I’m so glad you could make it! I hope you don’t mind him coming along, Jon?”

“No..I..what?”

“Oh yes! You’ve only met me in character! No, no, Jon, in person I’m quite the extrovert! Hate being alone! Now, let’s get some music playing for the birthday boy! Haaaaappy…”

“Wait, one more thing. Sorry. I’m very...what about Mr Spider? That was before I ever knew about the institute!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, no, that one was real.”

“What?!”

“Altogether now! _Happy birthday to you_...”


	5. A What If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Jon hadn't stormed off?
> 
> What if the two hadn't separated? 
> 
> What if I was less clever then I thought?
> 
> These questions and more, answered here!

“Tough! The world doesn’t care what you accept. It just… is! It just is…”

Jon stared, his eyes shaking with rage and fear. On the other side, Martin’s eyes narrowed, his face stony, the first thin tendrils of mist instinctively creeping around him.

Jon’s initial urge was to storm off, but… he had to stay calm. This was not a world for irrational decisions. However tempting they might seem.

He took some deep breaths.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. We...this is a big thing. A very... Let’s...lets go back to the tunnels. Talk about it when we’re calmer. Before we do anything rash”

“Fine. Fine.”

The walk down the stairs was awkward, but after the first dozen floors they held hands again, and after then second dozen Martin cracked a joke.

Jon smiled at that.

In the tunnels, Georgie showed them a private tunnel. One they hadn’t told the cultists about. This discussion wouldn’t be one that should be had with the risk Arun wandering in.

They sat, and sighed. Martin broke the silence first.

“Ok. Jon. If...if this really is the only way, I can’t stop you. Maybe I shouldn't stop you. But I need to know this is the  _ only _ way. Is there nothing else you can do?”

“...Maybe there is. I can...focus the Eye, as you know. Kill people, or make them avatars. I might be able to...make another candidate the Pupil. I don’t think I could stop it choosing a new Pupil _completely_ , but I might be able to make it choose someone other then me.”

“OK! Ok, that’s something. Right. There are rival powers, right? The Dark, the Stranger? If we took an avatar of those powers, would it do something? Like oil and water?”

“I….no. I’m afraid not. If we put Callum in it would just be a...shift in power. A world ruled by the Forever Blind, not the Ceaseless Watcher. I can’t tell what  _ that _ world would be like but…”

“Nothing better.”

“You saw Night Street. The Dark prefers simple, primal fears. It might revert us all back to childhood, screaming in dark rooms. Or maybe even just beasts in dark woods. “

“So definitely not that, then.”

“Ditto the Stranger or Spiral. A new hell, but…”

“Still a hell. Ok. It’s a bit of a cruel move but...Georgie or Melanie? They’re cut off from the Eye. Would that…”

“No. The Eye...heh. The Eye can’t see them to take them. And even if it did, they’re only human. Maybe if Melanie fully fell to the Slaughter, or Georgie had nurtured her flicker of the End but...no. The wave of fear would tear them apart. Their protections aren’t absolute. They would be obliterated, and the Eye would move on to a new pupil.”

“Ok. So there’s no options.”

“Hmm.”

Jon looked away. Martin reached over and grasped his shoulder.

“Jon. What are you not telling me?”

“It….ok. It  _ could _ be possible to put an avatar in, if they were touched by the Eye.”

“Another Eye Avatar?”

“No. That would...there’d maybe be some changes, but it would be the same world at the core. They’d need to be touched by the Eye and...another power.”

“Another power that opposes the Eye.”

“Yes.”

“Like the Lonely.”

“Yes.”

Martin looked up, his face calm despite the growing fear in his eyes.

“Like me.”

“...Yes. Like you.”

“Shit.”

A long, lingering pause.

“But we could find another joint avatar. It doesn’t have to be you specifically.”

“I know when you’re lying to me, Jon.”

“...No fears are _purely_ oppositional. You could have a world of Loneliness and Observation, standing alone amidst silent watchers. Likewise a world of Eyes in the Dark or Watchful Strangers. The new pupil would need to intentionally push their fears against each other. And I can’t see the future. I can guess but...I’d need to be absolutely sure. And there’s only one person I could trust _absolutely_ not to use this as a power grab.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t joke, Martin. Not now.”

“Ok. Sorry. So...this would end the apocalypse?”

“Yes. The clash, at such a focal point...the Fears would be hurled away from this world. If not forever at least for a very, very long time. Hopefully long enough for them to starve. Certainly enough they wouldn’t be a threat for generations.”

“Good. And what happens to me?”

“...You won’t survive. I’m sorry. You won’t. Perhaps if you became the pupil but...you’d be at the center of the clash. You’d be obliterated.”

The two silently embraced. In the dark tunnel, the choice had already been made. They just had to admit it.

The two walked up the tower, the grim sense of an executioner's axe looming over them. And they stood in the room. Above them, Jonah stared in agonizing bliss, his eyes burning, his chanting echoing through the air.

“...I love you, Jon. So much.”

“I love you too. I’m...sorry that this is the world.”

“I’ll die saving it. What more can you ask for?”

“I...I suppose.”

The two kissed hard, embracing and clinging for a long time. But not long enough.

“...Now, Jon. Before I… do it now.”

Jon took a deep breath.

“ _ Ceaseless Watcher. See this obsolete relic of fear, this thing of sneering pride and rotting eyes. See its hubris and cast it down. Bring it down to the earth it so hates, to the death it so fears. And place its crown upon this other. Upon this thing of turned aside gazes and unseen fear. This thing of tear-clouded eyes. This thing I love. _

_ Accept this sacrifice, and make it your pupil.” _

The air buzzed with static. Jon’s eyes narrowed.

“ _ Ceaseless Watcher. I give you this sacrifice. What means the most to me, what I love most.  _ **_Take it._ ** ”  


The Static Roared.

And behind them, Jonah fell to the floor. Elias’s body was still young, but his eyes rapidly rotted in their sockets, their last moment of terror flashing just before they became dust.

And Martin’s eyes glowed. He spasmed with pain, but he formed his face into one last teary smile

“I….love you….Jon...Now...dickhead….I’m coming up there….to kick...your….ass!”

And he lifted into the air, his eyes burning white.

Sobbing, Jon walked over to the window, and looked at the sky.

It was working.

The Mists shrouded the sky, as the Eyes tried furiously to pierce through them. The fear of always being watched colliding with the fear that no-one sees you at all. A clash all powers would lose.

As the war between the Forsaken and the Beholding reached its climax, the world torn apart by a storm of terror, Jon looked up and wiped his eyes. He spoke softly, one last sentence before the entire world woke up from its nightmare.

“LonelyEyes is Canon.”


	6. A Rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 197 has been a controversial episode.
> 
> For those who weren't a fan, here's a few other ways it could have happened, if they sit bettter?

Dangling from a web of tapes, Annabelle Cane grinned with scuttling mandibles, her long limbs wrapping around Martin.

“He’s perfectly safe right now. As long as everyone remains civil.”

Jon glared, Eyes burning, but saw no other way out. For now.

“Fine. Speak your piece. Tell us about your “way out”.”

Walking along the tape recorder web, Annabelle smirked.

“As you wish…”

* * *

“Tell me. The great fears. Do you beleeeeeeeeeeee…”

“...”

“Ah.”

“She…”

“She tripped and fell in the hole, yes.”

“Was that…”

“I don’t think that was part of the Web’s plan, no.”

“Will she…”

“No, no, she’s gone.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“Well, guess I’m going to go become the Pupil. Nice to see you again Basira!”

* * *

“Tell me Jon. How would you feel about being filled with spiders?”

* * *

“I know how you like your information. So I’ve prepared you a statement. One final meal for your patron.”

He bristled, but the Eye’s hunger and his own curiosity made him reach out for the crisp paper.

Basira and Martin looked in worry, Annabelle in anticipation. Jon sighed. No point delaying it.

“Statement of Annabelle Cane, regarding the Web and its ultimate plan. Statement given...irrelevant. Statement begins.”

Jon started to read, his eyes burning green, his voice forming a smooth, smug monologue.

“Hello Jon. Apologies for the Deception…”

* * *

“Here you go Jon.”

“...It’s a big rock.”

“Yeah, throw it at the floaty chanting man with the glowing eyes. I thought Martin would just give you the idea but apparently _some_ people need it spelling out for them”

* * *

“I told you, Jon. It will be easier to show you.”

Behind Annabelle, a screen appeared, forming from the tape. The image flickered, and came to life, with a chippy tune.

“ _Welcome boys and girls, to the Cane hour!”_

“I’m sorry, what is this?”

“Sush, just give it a minute.”

On screen, Annabelle stood in a brightly coloured house, surrounded by cute cartoon spiders. She sang a little song, and stopped at a knock at the door.

“ _Who is it, boys and girls?”_

“I’m sorry, you promised that you could fix the apocalypse!”

“Yeah, yeah, there’s a dimensional rift or something. Anyway, what do you think? I worked really hard on it, think studios will pick it up? Names a bit of a placeholder, I admit but otherwise? Not too saccharine? I was considering black and white, you know, homage, but I think full colour works better…”

* * *

“Do you know who’s listening to these tapes?”

“The Web?”

“Far worse. It’s a bunch of _fucking nerds_.”

“No…”

“Yes! And it gets worse. Let me show you their dimension’s Tumblr tag of you.”

“What do you..”

Jon’s face paled as he scrolled through the phone.

“We need...we need to stop this. Now.”

“And we will, Mr Sims. Through this chasm. We’ll slip through this crack and they will pay for all their hot takes. Every last one.”

The archivist looked into the pit, and then searched “Martin Blackwood” on the other world’s Tumblr.

He shuddered.

“Ok, I’ll do it. Let’s get these fuckers.”

“You’ve made the right choice, Archivist. Now. Let's get their asses.”

AND THEN _YOU_ WERE FILLED WITH SPIDERS!

OOOO!

\----

She moved, and the webbing parted. Jon’s blood ran cold as he saw what lay behind it. A black and white door.

“You’re very late for dinner, Archivist. But you’re here now.”

He tried to call on the Ceaseless Watcher, but in the face of this, he was no longer the Eye’s Herald, Lord of the Apocalypse. He was just a little boy, watching his world be torn apart. He had no power here.

Annabelle chuckled.

“It is, I am informed, polite to knock.”

He could barely hear Basira’s cautious request for more information, or Martin’s muffled gasp as he connected this to the frightened story Jon once told. He simply walked forward and raised his hand.

_Knock Knock_

The door opened, and the thing on the other side stepped from a nightmare. Jon’s nightmare. Bulging, misshapen eyes looking down, a bowler hat that would seem comical if not for the blood.

The voice was almost too soft. A voice used to lure a child.

“Well. If it isn’t Little Jonathan Sims, at my door again after all this time.”

“I...I…”

“It’s been a long time, child. But I never forget a reader. Never forget a _guest_.”

“P...please…”

Long, bony limbs wrapped around him, and pulled him into a warm embrace.

“I’ll put the tea on! Look at you, all grown up! How have you been?”

Jon was unable to formulate a proper response as Mr Spider rushed him into his home and through the brown-stained door.

“Archivist now? Amazing! Little Jon all grown up! Do sit down, sorry for the mess, I split some of the sauce when I was making dinner. Happens to us all, eh?”

Inside the room, 4 anthropomorphic flies sat and waved as Jon walked in, along with a man Jon hadn’t seen in decades.

“Wait..but...you died! Mr Spider took you…”

“Here! I’m really sorry about what a dick I was back then by the way, Sims. Going through a lot at home, needed someone to take it out on. It turns out Mr Spider is really good at talking you through your problems, though. Taught me a lot about expressing your anger constructively.”

“I...ok...wait...but the flies! They were terrified!”

“Poor things, huge social anxiety, that’s why I invited them. I think they’re doing better now, though.”

A happy buzzing filled the air.

“But…’Mr Spider doesn’t eat flowers’ and all that.”

“I don't. I also don’t eat cake. I’m a spider.”

Still struggling to grasp what was happening but at least somewhat confident he wasn’t going to be eaten, Jon sat at the table. Behind him, Annabelle scuttled in, a very confused Martin and Basira following.

“You see, Jon, you missed our party! We got Greg here, very nice boy of course, but we were worried so we arranged things so that you’d get a chance to...reattend.”

“What?”

“Oh! Oh was I creepy again? Sorry, that’s just how I talk. I meant attend literally. Sorry if any of this came off as creepy!”

“Ok, ok. But... Did you have to end the world?”

“No, but we’re evil spiders. Anyway, who wants something to eat?”

“Yes please! Mr Spider wants more!”

* * *

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you Archivist. I don’t have shit. Goodbye asshole, enjoy being a floating terror zombie forever!”


	7. Some Archivist AUs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves a good "What if X was the archivist?" AU!
> 
> Sadly, I don't have any.
> 
> I do have this bullshit, though!

**Sasha James, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST

Since Prentiss attacked, I’ve been hearing more and more noises coming from down in the tunnels. Like something’s moving down there. Something not human. Something not...natural.

So obviously I’m not fucking going down there.

That shit sounds terrifying.

* * *

**Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ELIAS

I’m very sure Prentiss counts as a corruption mark. I’m sure I can play on his guilt and self loathing to…

BEHOLDING

**Oh I like this one.**

ELIAS

What? Who is this? Who are you?

BEHOLDING

**I’m giving him your job.**

ELIAS

What? My...

[EXTENDED SOUND OF SCREAMING AND EYE REMOVAL]

ELIAS/MARTIN

_Jesus christ what the fuck?!_

* * *

**Timothy Stoker, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST

It is clear my predecessors focused far too much on irrelevant shit. So from now on we have two goals.

One: Have Fun.

Two: Kill Clowns.

You’d better be smooching or stabbing, people. I’m not tolerating shirkers any more.

ELIAS

Tim, this is very much outside your remit. You really just need to record statements.

ARCHIVIST

Good news guys! For demonstration purposes... _It seems_ _we have a clown right here._

* * *

**Melanie King, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL STABBING]

[ARCHIVIST PANTING, SOUND OF HYDRATION]

ARCHIVIST

Ok, rested enough now.

[SOUNDS OF BRUTAL STABBING CONTINUE]

* * *

**“Micheal”, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute.**

ARCHIVIST

Oh, you want to give a statement? Why, of course! Right through this door...

* * *

**Peter Lukas, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute.**

ELIAS

Peter?

Peter you’d better not have turned invisible again. Peter. Peter, you make yourself visible and read this statement right now.

Peter?

[SILENCE]

ELIAS

Peter, I want another divorce.

* * *

**Georgie Barker, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I saw it reach into him, and spread through him. I could see its thousands of sharp, branching fingers starting to…

ARCHIVIST (NORMAL VOICE)

Sorry, am I supposed to be getting something from this?

* * *

**The Admiral, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST

Meow.

ELIAS

Brilliant! You’re promoted, here’s my office, my leitners and my car.

* * *

**Elias Bouchard, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST

Ok, how hard can this be? I just need to get the marks. It should be simple enough, a few leitners, maybe some minor avatars. I should be able to make the process relatively painless.

[SOUND OF THE ARCHIVIST GETTING UP]

[EXTENDED SOUNDS OF SUPERNATURAL BEATINGS]

ARCHIVIST

Apparently...my face was more punchable...then I thought. But...jokes on them. That’s all...14 marks...just need...

[THE ARCHIVIST PASSES OUT]

MARTIN

We should call an ambulance.

TIM

We should kick him more.

MELANIE

Personally I vote for stabbing.

MARTIN

I know he’s done a lot to us, but we need to be the bigger...Oh, to _hell_ with it. I’m gonna start biting him!

* * *

**Annabelle Cane, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute.**

ELIAS

Who the hell are you?

ARCHIVIST

Oh, I’m your boss now. Go make me a coffee, I need to open a rift between worlds.

ELIAS

Excuse me? I am Elias Bouchard, Head of this institute, and I will not...

[OVERWHELMING SOUNDS OF SCUTTLING]

ARCHIVIST

Hearing a lot of smug over there, not a lot of coffee brewing.

ELIAS

...Right on that, Ma’am.

* * *

**Breekon and Hope, Head Archivists Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVISTS

Well, this be ‘appening a good shake o’ a few whiskers ‘go m’old chaps so cricky apologies if t’ details be a dirt and muck my old roger. Now I’ thought I did that I be ‘aving a good ol’ gander at t’ ‘hole thing but cricky and blimey i’ a good dose o’ horse a’ field not be messin’ up the ol’ door and locks, know wha’ I’m sayin’ but I guess that’s ya’ fire ‘n’ log if I catch yer drift?

ELIAS

...Please leave.

* * *

**Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist Of The Magnus Institute**

ARCHIVIST

Hello? Alex? Frank? Where is everyone?

Anyone? I’m here to record a podcast? What is this building? How did I get here?

Ok, it’s fine. I’ll just look around and…

…

Fuck.

 _Really_ should have gone with the _Mrs. Brown's Boys_ clone.


	8. How To Stop The Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some might say being trapped between two horrible options is a time for despair or resignation.
> 
> Others say its time to get creative!

“Ok, in short, these are our only options. Either we inflict death and suffering, and potentially eternal torment, on a thousand worlds…”

“Or we feed you to the Eye, turning you into a nightmare avatar of ruthless judgement, and hope enough of you remains that you don’t just torture everyone anyway..”

“In as many words, yes.”

“Wait. I think I have some other ideas…”

**THE GANG’S OTHER IDEAS**

Idea One: Melanie Stabs Everyone In The Eyes

“What?!”

“Look. It freed one person from the Eye. It might work on everyone, right? Blind is better then endless torture.”

“True. True. Georgie, come help?”

“Sure thing, babe.”

* * *

“Ow! Ow! Fuck you you inbred flying prick you…”

Hovering in the air, clothes blowing in an endless breeze, the old man smiled as the two women slammed into the ground.

“Such manners, young lady. Most unbecoming. Anyway. Archivist! And Martin! A pleasure to meet you both again!”

“Simon Fairchild.”

“In the flesh! Thanks to you, indeed. My gratitude for not destroying me! Now, I assume these two ruffians are yours?”

“I wouldn’t say  _ mine _ ..”

“Oh, of course. Of course. Wouldn’t do to lord our status over the common folk, would it? But still. I’d like to request you don’t send them to attack my livestock anymore! It’s very annoying and I’m afraid I can be quite harsh when pushed.”

“As can I.”

“Well, all the more reason to make friends then!”

“...CEASELESS WATCHER, LOOK UPON THIS…”

“Bye!”

The group watched as the old man flew out of sight. Martin threw a rock.

“ _ God _ I hate that man.”

“How did he see us?”

“Extreme actions draw their attention. I guess stabbing people counts.”

“Fine. Ok, so that won’t...Wait! I have an amendment!”   
  


Idea Two: Melanie Stabs Jon Specifically In The Eyes

“No!”

“Look, if we cut you off from the eye…”

“I’ll just be cut off from the Eye! Nothing would change except I’d probably die!”

“Ah, ok…”

“…”

“Get back here. posh boy!”

“AAAAAARGH! MARTIN! GEORGIE! HELP!”

“You move too loudly Jon! I can hear where you run!”  
  


Idea Three: Put A Blanket Over Elias So He Can’t See The World Anymore

“Hi Rosie.”

“Hello! Do you have an appointment?”

She smiled, wide and cold and empty, her eyes blank and hollow.

“Jonathan Sims. The Archivist. And associates.”

Her smile didn’t falter as she pressed the button.

“Mr Magnus, sir, Jonathan Sims is back.”

_ “̶̨̫̠̣̲̹͇̥̻̤̪͉̻̓̓̋̽̇͠ͅͅt̴̥̱̍̉̓̾ḧ̴̡̨̙̳̙̱͙̣̦͈̬̰̯̥͎̻́̐͌̑̕e̷̡͙̭̝̝̠͎͋͒͗̆͋̓̆̊̔̍̍̐͜ ̸̧̡̲̪̭̺̦͖̮̳̳̩̳̍̍͐͝ͅḋ̴̺̰̯͉͆̇͂͗͋̇̌͂̚̕ơ̷̧̤̗̮̫̆̔̐̽͌͑̂̐̈̂͂̌̉͠͠o̷̧̳͆͛̊̐̑̈́̅͑͂͂̐͊̐̕̕̕͝r̴̡̛̼̫͇̻̒̒̉ͅ ̷̨̢͉̫͖̲̜̲͉͍͓̞̰̺̼͔̓͑̈́s̶̺̻͍͖͓͙̥̈́̽̑̊̆̾̓̓̐̑͝͝c̶͕̫̦̫̭̰͆̐̿͐͋̐̽͂͐͛̓̓͐̚ͅͅr̵̝̻̲̗̮̹̲̘͙͛̍̽e̷̡̠̳̦̻̪͍͍͚̞͈̖͙͊͒̈́̀̐̎̃̒̄̍e̴̮̤̓̄̉̿͆͗̇̏̇͠͠c̸͚̜͙̘̳̰̬͙̘͆̃́͛̊͠͝͝h̷̳̼̻̤́̆̈́̓̓͝e̸̡̧͈̯͖̟̼̘̹̩̫̜͎͈̦̥͐͐̿̅̿̅͜s̶̨͎̻͙̜͎͕̤̮̤͖̦͒͋̃̓̓̊̾͋̓͆̚ ̷͔͇̣̜͌̓̋̾̎̆̂̉͝ͅa̶̪̰͑̀͐̓͂̉̏͆͑̊͌͘̚͘͝n̵̢̡̺̮̺̝͇̜͈̪͚̜̬͆͌̔̎̈́̒͐͂̕͘̚͘͝ͅd̶̡̢͕͎̯̣͓̪̣̭̫̦̠̰̩̑͗͂͜͝͝ͅ ̵͖̳̣̒̉̔̎̐̈ć̶̡̢̜͇̖̦̻̯̰̩̯̝̪̘̼͔̠̃͊̍̍͋̒̄̈̕͠l̷̜̔̆̔̿̈́̔̈̽̽̍̑̍̕̕͝a̸̢̛͍̯̺̱͓͖̎͛̂̿͜w̸̢̞̫͕͖̱̜̖̥̦̦̒͌̄̂̈̏͂͘͘s̶̨̜̹͙̩̳̳̩͙̱͚͇̈́͋̇̈́̄̔̽́͋̌̚ͅ ̵̧̧̲̪͙̟̣̱͙̻̼̻̙̗̰̏̒̆͛͂̅̔̄͗͘̚͠ͅä̸͓͙͓̫̫͎̗͍͚͍̣̦͚̰͈̪́͌͗̌͗̾̏̉͘͜ṇ̴̛̬̖̳̥͙̠͕̖̱̦̻̝̑́̈́́͋͊̊͛͐͜͝ͅd̵̮̦͈̝̳̯̙̫̲̥̣̱̮͗̍͗̒̿̾̈́̆̔ ̶̬̜̭̪̜̈͌͑̏̊̇b̷̡͖͔̹̟̣̥͓͎̭͓̼̊̈́ͅē̴̤̌̐͗̍͌̽̈́͛̍̚͘h̵̨̛̛̛͇̦̩̫͉͍̾͐̐͑͗̌̈͑̓̈́͝į̶̛̠̖͕͈̘̠̦͔͉̳̜͛̓̒̓̂̈͌̌̌͆̉̏͋̑n̸̤̜̭͙̼̫̬͌̈́̑̈͛̌͊̃̍́͠d̵̹̋͂̈́̾̕ ̴̝̜͆̄̇̌́̑͝t̶̗̠̞͍̫̭̫͍̻̑̄́͋̌̓͜h̷̡̠̯̖̠̗̳̾̉̌͂̐͌̕ͅe̴̲̣̖̪͒̽̉̐̔͒̽̈́̇̉ͅ ̵̩̞̖̦͛͝f̸̨̢̘̠̩͓̼͔̼̈́̋̚͝ĺ̴̢̨̠̝͇̥̥̮͍̘̝̹̪̺͔͎̊̂̌͌͗ͅȩ̷͇͇͇̫̍͆̅̀̂̍̉̽́̽͠s̴̩̲͐͒̋̊͐̊̒͆̍h̸͕̠͛̇̽̇͐̇̈́̒̽̈͐̀̒̊̃̕͝ ̶̧̻̥̭͙̺̤̥̜͈̫͇͚̝̈̃̾͐͝p̶̧̦͙͚̞̰͈̠̳̞̯͔̾̂̕o̶̩͉̝̪̤͍̰̩̮̦̫͋̉̍̽̇͛ȕ̶̙̝͖̗͇̞̹̃͛̍͂͝r̷͈͇͕̯̲͔̼̾̒̾̒͆̑̅̾̅̂͒̄͂͜͝͝͠s̷̨͈̺̳͓̟͈̬̱͇̗̳̈́͗͋̉̍̃̉̈́̀̃̋̓͂͐̃̕͝ͅͅ ̷͖̬̩̤̦̙̘̞̖̤̩͓̥̳̠̞̀̓̑̍̂̆͋̓́̃͜͝t̶̛̻͙̒̉͂̐̏͋͆͊͂́͆̑͂̅e̶̛̼͇̞̝̟͍͙͆͗̓̋̔͗̔̾̎̈́ë̸͖ť̵̡̬̙̠͈̬͕̠̠̻͇̐̀̽̅̊̃͋̈́̚͠͝h̴̢̜̞̫̤̗́̃͝ ̸̡͇̬̗̠̟̗͚͚̓͜ͅä̵̛̜̩̩͎̩͓̅̈̊̓̈́̔̿͐̿̂̍̌̾̈n̸̲͍̳̳̥̦͖̼͊͆̌̚ḑ̸̧̧͍̜̞̘̺̻̮͍͕̐̀̈́̐͗̓̉͗͊̚͜͠ͅͅ ̵̠̜̻̣͉͉͂͆̀̀̈͂͠m̵̢͍̝͇͍̲̻̈̊͌̓͆͆͛̇͋̾͜a̷̟͈̫̗̜̼͎͎͌͆̅͌̔̓̔̈́͊̊̕͝w̵̨̡͚̰̫̙̗͎͍̮͙̪̤͍͎̯̒̚s̶̪̝̗͇̰͉̎̏̍̅͂̎̎͆̐̕̕͝ ̶̨̹̼̘̲͓̫̺͙͓̭̹̖̼͛̉͗̾͝͝a̸̢̞͈̭̽͛̅̈́̀͒̐̏ͅṉ̵̡̨̢͚̖̼̳̖͔͑͑̎̿̐͌̏̿̓͐̎͂̽̊͠ḑ̷̨̧̺̰̤̹̣̮̥͎̪͙͍̤͚̈́̓̄̇͊͒̄̆̅ ̵̢̢̻̭̞̺̯͎̞̥͍̥̥͎̯͇̾̏̄̎̆̽͊͋́̀̓͂͑͜ş̴̡̮͈̙͙̪͇̪͑̈̉̍̾̅͗̄̆͑̓͂͂̊̕͠͝ḧ̸̗̠̯͕̬̤́͌͑̄̉̔ͅȩ̴̢̩͕̰̘̻͇̗̙͍̦̟̲͐̓̇̊̽͐̌ ̸̢̣̱̠̤͔̊͒͋͌̽̂̊̀͋̓̄̉̇̈́͘͝ͅȑ̸͔̣͍̠̬̑̊̿͒̎̓̇͛͜u̴̬̜̞̩̣̦͚̣̪̐̃͑̒̅͊͑̉̓͑͘͝͝ṅ̴̗̖͈̟̫͚̦̻̬̣̦͚̗͑͑̎̀̇͋͛̆̕̕͠͝͝s̶̨̡̢͉̮̘̟̾͛ ̷̡̨̹̬͙͓̭͐b̵̛̬͈͙̬̹̖͉̗̰̗͓̟̬̟̞̈́̀͊̍̌͊̈́͆̑ͅú̸̡̨̦̣͍̳͚͔t̸͓̭̠̪̒̌͂̉͛̆̅͜ ̵̡̹͇͈͕̖̣̦̝͙̻̲͈͛̏̓̕̕ẖ̴͓̹̩̫̩̟̻̆͆̋̓̈̓̃̒̏͘͘͠ͅǒ̶̰̟͓̰̣̦͉̤͗͌̃̌͆̓̆̾̀̅́͛͘̚͜͝w̷̘͕͎ ̴̧̠͖̼̖̹̥̱̀͊̍c̶̨̢͔̘̬̪͎͕̲̼͚̥̾̍̈́̉̽̈́͛͋̃̽̾̇͌͆̄̈ă̸̢̢̢̙̠̗͎̙͕̼͍̼̖̅̎̂͠͠n̵̡̨̧̧̩̫̘̹̙̤͉̘̜͍̪͒̉̆̑̑͝͝ͅ ̴̧̬̹̳̦̥͓̟̱̙͍͖̪̤̱̫͍͌͝s̷̛̹̲͌̓̂̇̐̔̒̃͂̚͘̚͝h̷͍̖͍͆͒͊͋̐͑̇͋̊̈e̷̡͙̫̣̠̬̠͋̈͛̀͐̉͒̄̈́͗̚͠ ̸̧̢̢̛̘̯̦̫̘̰̫͓̹̌̐͌̋͌̑͗͂͌̎̕̚ŕ̴̳̠̭̘̥̮̰͇̮̼̮͎͉͇u̴̬̹̺̻̼͊̓̑͗̓̋̋̍̈͛̂̀̄̕͝ņ̴̢̡͉͔̭̑̒́̑̈̆͐̎̏͗͛͒͘͝͠ ̵̡̝̣̗͙̱̯̝͎̹̲̼̰̠̽̿̂̾͑̇͆̓͛̐̆͜͝͝͠ͅf̵̠͙̻̙͕͕̞̬̮͔̊̊͂̀͐͊̉̏̎̓̀̈́̒̆ͅr̴̢̢͍̯͍̰͙̣̹̥̖̤͋̎͌͆̈͂̈́͜o̷̡̟̮͇̟̱̥̫͚͔̞̠̺̺̓̓̓͑̍̍͋͐̀̈͝m̷͎̭̦̰̬̻̲̥̩̤͕̖̪̽̄̕͠ ̴̨̯̱̦͖͚̩͕͋͐͐͂͊̔̓̿̓͘̚̕̚͘͜͝t̷̨̧̢͓̲̯̗̩̺̥̫̱͉̰̔̉̈̈́͐̇̃̒͜h̷̪̞͕̙͉͎͎͎͑͆̿̐̄͒̀̏͑̋̿̐̕ę̴̬͔̯̻͍̱͓̫͕̈́͋̋͛̈͜ ̶̹̬̩͎͚̆̔̆̑̕͘̚s̷̝̙͕̘̤̖͛̂̍͊̊̊̈̓͛̽͒̕̚͝ŏ̴̧̢̨̦̝͙̙͓̠͖̻͇̖͙̕n̶̢̥͍̻̣͉͗̎͛̇͋̋̃̑͑̈́̈͑͂̑̓̚g̷̖̀͌̃̈́͗̾̈́̓̾̃̚͝ ̵̮̭̥͎͆̓͒̾̈͐͝į̸̭̜̰̮͓̝̋̇͜͜n̵̢̹͇͉̹̝̤͍͈̹͇͚̉͌ ̴̧̧͇̥̬͚̦̞͖̪̗͔͉̥̣̝̉ḩ̶̤̫̽͒̋̕̚e̷͓̩̬̠̿̅̏̅̅͝r̵̡̡̜̺̩̩͓̲͗̽͗͠ ̴̡̦͖̦͎̲̮̘̃̑͒͗͊̑̄̅͂͘ḩ̸̥̞̰͕͍̦͉͙͐̈́͋͊̑͊̈̇̏͂̓͜e̶̢̧̨̛͔͉̥̱̒̓̆͌͌́͑̓̕͘̚͝͝͝a̴̛͓̲̺̪͉̗̟͒̾̃̿͗̏̌͆͒̓̈́̏͗̉̉d̵͇̳̰̠̲̞͍̥́͋̐̎͗͠ ̵̯̗̘̲̇̽̒̈́̉͘ă̸̡̛͔̠̦͔̗͖̠̫̹͎͆͐̄́͌͂͌̋n̶̠̰̩͉͔̪̯͑̇͂̕ͅd̸͔͔̪͙̝͈̦͓͆̿̃̾ ̵̢̘͉̲̺̊̈́̏̿̈́́͋͝͠͝ͅb̷̩͓̼̪̥̲͔̥̱͙̱̪̥͋̽͆̓̋̑͐̐͂͘̚͜͠͠͝ͅờ̶̡̬̠̦̟̠̗̀͊̉̏̑̈̊̅͜͜n̸̢̨̯͎̜̙̙͕̋̓͗̓̌̒͗͋̋̐͗͌̕͝͝ẻ̶̛̹͓̺̯̩̝̠̺̥̏̎̑̽̅̂͋̑͌̚͜s̵̻̼̖̣͈̝͂̉̃̀̈́́̈́̒͘ ̸̯̥̠̦̮͆͗̈́͌́̎̆͆͗́͠p̶̡͕͓̫̺̩̈́͊͆͜ì̴͇̩̪͉̾̍̉̏̅̽̓̏͝ͅȇ̷̛̲̫̻̟̞̩̼̘̦̙͙̿̓̓̿̓͌͋̈̕r̵̙̭̱̠̣̯̩͚̈ç̸̧̯̱̟̌͆̔͑͑͂͐͝͠͝ḯ̷̢̡̠̠͕̱̪͙͍͇̲̭̹͔̪̃̃̎̓͛̓̑͂͗̊̚͠͝ñ̶͇͋̉̆̓̒͒̔̌g̷͙̳̜̾͒͌̈́̍̒̕ ̵̢͇͓̪̱̻̻̘̝̂̀̑̏̃̍͝h̶̻̼̼͖̉ę̵͖̗̱͓̹̘͔͔͕͎̺̥͇̝̃̾̍͌̈̃͝r̷̨̡̡͚̙͖̝̪̤̳̟̳̪̳̜̞͕̓̉̋̾̀̈́̔,̷̛̲̞̦̪͙̝͗̊̂̊̈́͋́̈́͝ ̷̧̢̦̜̻̝̳͖̝̺͙͖͈̃͗̓̓͗͘͜͜͜͝r̵̢̧͚͈̫̟̝̠̪̗̈̎͠ͅį̵̢̟͍̰̖͙̩͈͍̝͒̅̓̓͒͋̊̑̓̐̅̋̕͘̚p̵̛̞̻̺͉̣̼̠͖̹̭̞͓̩̀͗̉̔͐̈́̚p̴̠͕̖̣̺͇͈̗̌͘i̷̠͚̥͔̺̪̹͊̂̊̂͛̾̅̇̽͝ͅn̸̯͖̥̲̤͑͂̏̽͊͝͝͝ģ̷̻͚̖̳̮̮̟̫̦̺̺̖͇̪̮͓́̍͑͒̊̕ ̵̢̡̧̰̖͓͔̮͗͊̄̐̓̏ǫ̶͉͕̠͚͇ư̸̢̢̧̡̱̻͉̪͚̝̮̫̖͚͎̙̗̍͋̈̓̿̅̿̅̔͌͛̽̐̚͘ẗ̸̛̞̩͙̺̼̙̟̠̮́͊̄̈́̈́͊̋͆̈́̾̊͜ ̶͓̳̖̹̝̏̅̃͆̃̓̅̌̋͑̑̒̓̓͂͂ī̵̝̓͋̇͆̒̓̐͐͂͋̑̌͒͂n̵̳̆̏̏̓̏̈́̃ ̷̡̨̲̻̦̔̋̔̈́͋͆͛̊͊͒͋̌̂̉̕͝͝s̵̳̰͔̅͐̎̉̽̽̉̈̑͘͘w̶̻͍̻̺͙͇̬͉͓̤̑͒͑̒͋̀̐͑̊̔̃a̷̤͙̺̤̫̪̱̞̞̙̮̐̅̆̄̀̕͜ͅȑ̸̨͙͙̱͉̱̹͉̺͓̰͓͙̯̓͋̅̆͆̏̊̕͝m̷̡̡̭̘͖̝̝͇̅̑͊̆̀͜s̵̨̼͕͍͂͆̿ ̶̡̛͇̠͙͙̟̗̜̩̰̿̆͐͗̒͆̃̃̓͝ỏ̶̡̢̘͚͔̬̦̥͇̞͖͖͉̺͉̘̤̀̉̅͒̉̇̒̾̃͘͠f̵͉̞̾̽̀̊͆̿͆̽̆̋̅͗͝ ̴̢̨̥̞͓̥̙͓̓̋̓̉p̸̨̨̨̰͔͕̹̰͓͉̯̞͖̓̒̽̊͗͂͂͊̿̓̏͒̏̚͠ą̷̧͕̻̥͚̺̖̞͉̝̈́̒̇̏́ì̶̱̯̼͓̗̯̥͍̖̠̘̜̟͖͙̉͘͘͝ͅn̶̨̧̻͍̹̞̪̳͔̘̦̠̖͖̮͉͋́́̎̈ ̷̨̝̜͎̫̖̬͆̈́̍̑̌̈́̿͝ą̶̧̡̭͚̜̱̥̥̫͇͉͔̄̅ͅn̴̰̱͕̤͉̏̋͆̂̐́̀̇̅͊͌̔͘͠d̶̞̱̦̙́̐̒̐̽̐̽̕ ̵͔̯̱̬̭͖̟̗̀̓͜͝l̴̰̻̰̗̹̺̜̱̤̫͎̙̱͓̼̔̍͝ͅo̷̡̨͕͔̠̦̞̹̲͈͉͓̙̩͖͒̐͑͂ͅs̶̢̙̥̘͇̖̻̱͎̹̥̠̤͍͇̬̔͊͐̄͐͌̍͗̕ͅs̷̡͍̝͍͚̙̦͚͕͎̪̱̗̩̥̳̆͒̃͊͒̽̐͊̃̈́ͅ ̵̨̟̫͔̼̔̑͑̏̔̀̿͑̂̋̚ͅa̵̧̖͍̘͕̬̠̪̺̓͐́̆̍̋̈́͗͑̈́̄̔̿͘̚͠n̸̯͖̞͍̈͛̂̒ḑ̴̛̻̜̘͕̬͙̲̳̓͒̎̾̋͒͗͋͂̈́͠ ̴̝̮̤̰̯̤̩͑̆̇͗̌̒̍̕͜ͅn̴̢̝͙̱͉̼̹̘̤̞̺̟̦͍͒̐͐̚ǫ̵̬̗͈̼̠̍̓̈͛̔͒͑̅͝t̵̨̪̮̳̪̖̻̘̩̬̭͈̣͌̅̅͜͠͠ͅȟ̴̦̜͉̜̲̠͓̤̺̠̎̆̎̓̈́͗i̶̧̱̓̾n̴̢̢̡̹͍̺͎̤̩̬̙̻̬̯͕̣͕͊̌̃̆͛̿̆̔̕͠g̶̣̙͚̙̳͕͇̩͎̙̟̭͔͖̾̅̌̒̈́͋̅͜͝ ̵̡̛͔̬̥̤̥͓͂́̑̅t̶͉͇h̴͖̲̪͎͔̩͎̦͕̅͝ą̵̢̧̡̢̛̰̖͙̳̜̜͇̹̖̤͊̑̄̾̍͋͜͜t̸̯̠̣͖͑͌͊̓̐͗̇ ̴̨̛̫̰͌̿͗̓̇̆̏g̵̛͖͓͉͔̙͙̱̩͙̥̲̫̠͗̑̎͛̾̋̈̏̂̕r̷͕͚̫̮͚͓͓̮͖̞͎̰̣͑͌̆̕͘â̸̡̹͔̻̖͓̱̝̦̬̯̘͕͒̓̅͌̿̈́̕s̶̞̘̘̼͖̥͕͇̼̞͍̺͑̇̔͌̓̚͜p̴̛͙̪͙̹͘ ̷̨̧̛̬̪̺͈̳̣̮̞̟͈̯̞̩̫͗̈͒̈́̃͝a̸̝͛̓̾̊́t̸̝̳͖̬̤̝̓́̉͛͋̑͘͜ ̶͔͛̑̏̃̃̐͊̏̑̃̀̕̚̕͘h̷̡̨̰͙̲̼̭̳͒̂̂e̶̡̛͙̪̘̳̖̝̤͔͕̤̞͍̼͂̃̋̏̕̕͝͝ŗ̸̤̙̩̖̦̈́̎̃̈́̍ ̸̢̤̩̲̪͇̯̬̳͂̈́̓ĭ̴̢̢̩̟̭͆̎̊͛͗̋̓̒̍̐s̷̨̢̛͕̪͈͆͊̋̈́͂͛͒͒ ̵̢̛̺̬̠̄͌͋͋͆̀̑͂̃̐̕͜ͅa̵̫͓̳̼̦̤̞̗̥̳̲͎̿̊͝ͅn̴̨̛̠̘̼͗̏̈́͛̀͗͌̾́͛͝d̶̨͙͖̜̗͉̈̇̏͆͐̔̒̒ ̷̨̫̻͖̣̲̬̠̀̓̈͆̊̌̅̆̕ḧ̴̝͓̹͕̗̳̆̄̈́̉̏̉͘̕͝͝e̸̡͙̤̺̦͉͍͔̦̙̞͇͇̅̍͐̔r̵͉̠̤̺̤̺̭̲̘̻͌͜ͅ ̸̨̛̝̞̟͓̹̘̩̭͈̥́͜ī̸̡̢̢̫̝̭̩͎̊̊̆̾̆͋̃̂̔̚͜͠s̵̮̝̜͛ ̷̛̣̫̤͓͇̲̖̥̖͋̓̒͌̏͋͒͊̍̄́̋͗n̵̛̝̰̲͉͔̖̯̲͎̹̙̯̹͈̉̽̋͂͝o̸̱̔͐̒́̍̊̄̉̃̄̉̈́́̚t̶̩̠̻̱̬̂̽̽̎͗̔͆͌̐͘̕͠͠ ̷̛̪͔̟̩͔̝͇̟̲̼͎̗͉͍̗͊̽̄̆̅̉̈̓̔̾͋̚̕̚͜͜a̷̧̡̭̻͍̰̬̫̔͊͐͛̆̚̕ͅn̶̝̜̣̙̫̣͖͉̦̼̻̘̠̰̒̒̌̇̊̄̎̃̎̄͊̇̒̍̚ḍ̷̨̞̮̭̭͙͍̪̩̇͑̾̈́̆̽̒͂͊̅̍ ̶̭̠͕̰̠̖͚̰̙͍̈́͂̈́̾̽͑̿̅͊̈́͊̄̄̋͠u̸̡̡͚̮̿̂̈́̎̈́̑͂͗͒͝ͅn̸̡̧̡͓̣̘̪̲͉͖̺̹̜̝͋̑̾̈̑͂̾̃̊̿̊̓̄̈́m̷̛̲̗̎̀̎̊͋͆͌͋̎͘ả̷̰̭̼̫̞̺̟̝͎̩̳̬̏̀̓̓̋̀̒͌̈́͘k̷̨̺͉͕͒̌̐̒̉̀̿͗͘͘̕͜ẻ̵̢̢̢̹̱̙͔̱̬͖͙̺͉͎̈͒̐̑̕͘̕ ̵̧͍͙̥̳̖̮̺͔͉̱̭̝̥͊̏̏̉̇̂̊̎͆͂a̷̡͕̩̻͍͎̯͓̬̣͉̥͋͆͐͛̈̍͆͝ṋ̵̡̻̰̥̫̤̙̈́̈́̀̔̇̄̎̃̈́̊͝d̷̛͎̙͙̖͈̙̠͕̦̉̑̓̔̈́̓̚ ̷̨̛̜̱̮̖̮̘̰̪̖̭̫̥͌͗̓̃̄̌͌͊̑͗̚ŕ̸̼͚̠̻͍̖͍̳̬̌ȩ̶̢̛̯̙͎̻̺̻̟͎̘͈̠̃̊͆̌̂̈̈́͒̈́̊m̴̢̠͇̳̗̩̗͉̉̍̅̈̈́͝â̵̢̪̗̻̤̯̂͌̌̏̎͆̊͛͐͑̉͜͝ķ̸̞̜̱͚̙̠͇̹̗̞̙̔ȩ̷̨͕͕͈͙͕̬͉̟̫̘̙̜̼̂̀̈́͂̊͗̍͂̓͌̔̿̚͠ͅ ̷̰̣̖̤͔͉͓̲̘͇̪̮̪̠̦͇ḁ̸̗̯͓͎͌n̸̤̤͕͒d̵̡̧̢̨͖̻͓͙͚̠̩̖̉͊͌͐̎͌̅̇͗̕͝ ̶͍̦̲̇͆͆̏̚͜͝w̴̩̩͔̗̲̐̓̏͜ͅh̵̳͓̯͚͗͑͋̄͗̉͗͝͝ǎ̴̡̛̱̭̻̭̹̣̻̥͖̄̆́͆͊͜͝t̷̡͇̯͎͙̠̜̣̭̲̺͉̩͓̓̀̆̍̈́̑̏̔̾͂̈́́̕̕̚ ̷̢̛̛̠͖̳̎̓̌̿̀̅̔̕͝į̸͎̺͔̯̝̪̮̣̙̠̟̲͈̍̿͐̋͜ͅs̵̛͇̩̣̦̦̜͓̮̫̙̳̦̟̀̀̓͋̂ ̴̢̢̳͈̜̖͉̰̬̓͌̾͊͐͝l̵̬͓̣͍̜̑̒̊̆̎͊̐̇͝ĕ̸̛̛̪͔̦̟̙̩̬̪̞̯͚͑͑͗̓͜f̷̢̢̧̱͔̠̬͕͚͎̼͇͙̠̦̤̜͒͂̄̿̀t̸̡̛̛̤̜̳̦̖̹̮̭͎̜͛̅͒̄̄̅͒̃͊̇͊̂͒͘ ̷̭̗͈̹͖̬̥̬̔͑͌̉͊͒̎̒͛̑̄̚̕͝b̵̨̡̧̥͉̺̖͓̹͓̰̞͊̄̏͂̈̂̈́̔̂̑͌͒̀̚͠ử̸̛̬̼̖̰͖͂͐͜ţ̷̨̧̡̻͎͎͍̜͖͖̝̻͝…̴̹͇͔͎̩͖̠͔̲̭͊”̶͓͓̗̣̝͆̉̽̀̋̋͜͝ _

“Sorry, Mr Magnus is busy.”

“Busy doing what?! What the hell was that?”

“Sorry, Ma’am. He’s busy.”

“Well, when will he not be busy?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I don’t know.”

The group huddled in a corner.

“So, Jon? You know when he’ll be free/”

“Yes.”

“Ok, goo…”

“When I kill and replace him.”

“...oh. I’m guessing we can’t break in.”

“I...wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Well, back to the tunnel then, I guess..”

“Shame. I really think that would have worked.”   
  


Idea Four- Do The Chant Again But Backwards

_ “!ROOD EHT – NEPO – I _

_.su ot emoC _

_!seid dna sdeelb dna spir dna stnuh dna snrub dna sevaew dna sedih dna sevael dna stsiwt dna sllaf dna sdnilb dna sekohc dna slwarc taht daerd lufwa eht si taht lla dna rorret si taht lla dna raef si taht lla gnirB _

_.noitcefrep ruoy ni su ot emoC _

_.ssenelohw ruoy ni su ot emoC _

_.thgir yb sruoy ton si taht lla ni knird dna tiaw dna tiaw ohw uoY .dneherpmoc ton lliw dna raeh dna netsil ohw uoY .enon dnatsrednu dna wonk dna hctaw ohw uoY” _

“Holy shit, how did you do that?”

“Statement powers. I can also change speed, apply a backing track, or google translate it. ‘Tú que miras y no conoces ni entiendes nada. Tú que escuchas y oyes y no comprendes. Tú que esperas y esperas y bebes de todo lo que no es tuyo por derecho.’.”

“Wow! Why didn’t you say you could do that?”

“Martin. Can you think of  _ any _ situation where it would have been even slightly useful?”

“It would have been cool! Anyway. World’s still ended.”

“Yes. Because it was an  _ asinine idea _ .”

“Or, maybe, you need the whole statement? Maybe it was all part of the ritual?”

“Really? Ok, fine. Fine. Ahem. _ ...noitpeced eht rof seigolopA .noJ olleH” _

Idea Five: Everyone Gets Therapy So They’re Not Scared Anymore.

Hello.

How are you doing? What's your name?

Don’t worry. Lovely name. I’m Dr Blackwood, and I’m here to

Hey! Who the hell are you? What are you doing with my patient?

Shit! Wonderland’s onto us. Someone deck David and run!

Get off me you

*THUD*

Oh, that’s gross!

Well,what did you expect to be under my…

*THUD*

You said that already, dickwad! Grab the guy and run before the orderlies get here!

*WINDOW SHATTERS, RUNNING*

* * *

“Well I think that went Ok! Look at him run off into the wasteland! Ok, there’s at least 6 domains based around mental health services related fears in the UK, so let's try again. To Bedlam!”

Idea Six: A Major Petitioning Campaign

The quartet stood before the looming glass building. Gargoyles and spikes covered it, to ensure no-one could rest against it or sleep under it, and inside the wealthy feasted.

“What's this then? The fear of overly garish architecture?”

“Ha! No, no, this is the Palace. The fear of a corrupt and selfish government that prays on its citizens. I did a statement about it, actually.”

“Oh, ok...wait, is that Boris Johnson?”

“Yep. Servant of the Corruption. Actually, a good quarter of Tory PMs were avatars of some power or other. When you’ve already based your life around feasting on the suffering of others, making it a step more direct is no big leap.”

“Huh. Makes sense now you mention it. Anyway, let's knock. See if we can persuade the literal incarnation of bad governments to listen.”

They knocked. A tall man bedecked in gold, sharp teeth still feasting on a bone, loomed over them.

“Yes?”

Martin puffed himself up.

_ To whatever dread power it may concern _ _  
_ _  
_ _. I have been talking to the people of Britain, and have found a number of serious injustices that need to be addressed. _

_ My poll of 47 domains showed contentment and joy at 0% and pitiful wailing, impotent rage and paralysed terror at 80+% each. This is an outrage. Here are some quotes from some people I interviewed _

_ “Oh god please let me out before they come for me again”- Nicole, 42, The Domain Of Inescapable Enemies _

_ “I hear my children scream but I can’t find them, please, help me find them”- Iain, 36, The Domain Of Loved One’s Suffering. _

_ “This is not my face. You have to believe me. This is not what I look like. You have to believe me.”- Kit, 21, The Domain of Identity Denied. _

_ These are just a few of the horror stories I’ve found. It is clear things are not going well for the people of Britain. I demand a referendum immediately on whether or not to continue with this endless horror direction. Thank you for listening and I await your reply. _

The gold-clad man simply grinned, and closed the door.

“I...Fuck you!”

“I mean, I’m not sure what you expected to happen.”

Martin kicked the glass wall as faceless security dragged him away.

“Fuck you! You’re an asshole! And that photoshoot with your nanny was weird and creepy!”

Idea Seven: Summoning Other, Worse Horror Gods To Fight These Horror Gods

“Absolutely not.”

“Look, they exist, and I know their rituals, so…”

“Absolutely not!”

“There’s something called the Mega Slaughter! It has twice as many knives!”

“NO!”

Idea Eight: Get The End To Speed Things Up A Bit And Put Everyone Out Of Their Misery

The whispering surrounded them as they walked over the dying roots, weeping shadows marching past them.

“Oh, good, this place again.”

“It’s the end avatar we’re closest with.”

“Yeah, I know you’re closest with him…”

“Guys! Stop being babies! I’m guessing he’s at the top of the creepy, leafless tree?”

“No, no. He’s amidst the roots.”

They walked down into a white, shining, icy room. At the desk, a man sat. Covered in black vines, skin sunken and pallid, labcoat ragged. He didn’t look up as they entered.

“Archivist. Are you here to kill me?”

“No. We’re here to give you information.”

“Speak.”

“Do you know Alfred Grifter? Ruler of the Bloody Revel? Turn left at the Fear Of Violence Unexpected but stop if you reach the Fear Of Irrational Urges?”

“I know of him. Yes.”

“Well, he has been saying very mean and hurtful things about you! Insulting your domain and life choices! He says you suck!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! You should go to his domain and fight him! Steal a bunch of his prisoners!”

“...I will take it into consideration”

“Ok! Goodbye, Coroner.”

Banks nodded slightly as they left.

“Ok, I think that worked!”

“It didn’t.”

“I’m sure he’s secretly furious.”

“He isn’t.”

“What do you know?”

“Everything.”

“Well, no worry, I’ve already thought of a better plan!”

Idea Nine: Cut A Shitload Of Onions

“Well now it’s raining”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m wet now!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“What did you think would happen?”

“Nightmare logic! Onions beat eyes!”

“They make them cry! Which is why we’re soaked now!”

“Fine. Fine. It was a bad idea?”

“Ok, I guess we need to choose. Pupil or Rift?”

“Wait! I have one last idea!”

Idea Ten: Just Ask The Eye To Stop

“Really?”

“Hey. If it would work and we didn’t try it…”

“Ok, fair enough. Ahem.”

_ CEASELESS WATCHER _

_ WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? JESUS CHRIST. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T GET INVITED TO PARTIES ASSHOLE. STOP IT. GET HELP, YOU GODDAMN WEIRDO _

And a voice came from every shadow. Not booming, as might be expected, but quiet. The whisper of the lurking voyeur, of the buzz of a camera you don’t hear, of the voice in the back of your head telling you 're never good enough.

_ oh fuck you’re right. i’ve become my father. i'm so sorry guys. i think i need to go do some soul searching. _

And the world woke up.

“Oh. Well. That worked out.”

“It did! Really should have just tried that at the start”

“… ‘become my father?”

“Yeah, I think I've had enough exploring dark mysteries. Freeze frame ending?”

“Freeze frame ending!”

_ The Magnus Archives was a podcast... _

  
  



End file.
